


Haunting echo

by Vuetyris



Category: Warframe
Genre: Electrocution, Gen, Grineer faction in-fighting, Implied/Referenced Affair, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vuetyris/pseuds/Vuetyris
Summary: Visiting a long-time contact is bittersweet, the general is getting on in age. The crew knows of them, not much of a secret kept and he depart on fair terms... that is until someone from his past intrudes on his path. Reminding Lorren of things he rather forget.He doesn't hesitate to remind them.
Kudos: 9
Collections: Sihroa Rok - Schism





	Haunting echo

**Author's Note:**

> For clarity sake; Lorren has a partial extension of my own personal experiences.  
> It's not 1-to-1, however the psychological scars are just as deep.

It is with a casual hock-kick against the open doorway does Lorren finally catches the commander’s attention as they look up from the battalion overview map. Only briefly, as they return to the task at hand, calling over to a sergeant leaning against the console’s holographic display. “Get me a reading on that scout patrol,” rattles through their voice box – slightly ever so garbled, wires worn and exhausted just as much as the implants and augmentations that crawl through what is left of their tube-born body.

“Right,” the much younger sergeant grumbles, shoving themselves up from the surface to walk around it to the singular exit from the general’s office. As they approach the volt can tell they’re untainted by the flaws of their cursed degenerative genes, face only tainted with mild battle-scars. And their ringed sight catches Lorren’s stare as they near, stopping short of the door.

Lorren rolls away from the doorway with a downwards glare.

A firm stare returns from ring red… and the grineer finally steps past. Below the humming grinds of the ship systems and the steam exhales, Lorren catches the derogation – “fuckbuddy.”

It only gains a short roll of crystalline eyes as the warframe kicks off the wall beside the door – listening to it hiss behind him, locking at the command of the grineer before him. They tower over him as he leans against the hologram platform, glancing casually over the myriad of ships overlaid with their designations as the general communicates through internal com systems. Direct speak obscured, the only notion being the steam breath hiss and the beaming orange glow along their cranial implants. Faceless, the only direction of their sight marked by the mask and the glowing optics pointed forward – like crustacean stems.

“You got the information, Lorren?” sighs, leaning back from the console as half of the represented ships go off the grid – set to patrol, the warframe figures.

“Rys transferred the documents through to your ship’s central intelligence branch,” Lorren rests against an elbow, kicking a leg up to lean on the other as his tail flickers. An espionage on another vessel, somewhere a short jaunt across the region.

“I prefer to hear it from you,” the general breathes, eye stems glancing towards where the warframe leans. “I’ve been having… difficulties.”

Vision drawn firm, Lorren pauses to formulate his words. “should I have my cephalon transcribe directly to your personal display, general?” A mild concern; he has other contractors.

“Preferably, yes,” hisses. “Concerns of a replacement – I’m too old to keep maintenance anymore.”

Of course, cost expenses. “General Fynlk plans to raid a corpus settlement on europa for supplies, the location is all in cephalon code coordinates.” Lorren takes a glance to the hologram, and a message sent to his ship cephalon, Rys transfers the image to overlay – well, once the general allows it.

It blooms over the display before them, homing in on a zone a few short kilometers from the southern pole and far from the per-usual corpus occupation. A crash site assumed, given the general diagrams that overlay in the meshed display by the grineer systems as it catches the transcribed information stolen from the rival corp. Grineer text Lorren cannot read rolls over the hologram – though he can tell through his own cognitive connection. Suspected resources being excavated, a cache of old technology uncovered with the notation of skeptical new tech. An overlay flip compares previous scans to those the volt stolen.

“Anything on when,” heaves from the general, tabbing out of the Europa view to the overlay of their battalion. At the ready as they swarm a distance between Saturn’s orbit and the nearing Jupiter.

“They’ve seem to be mid-reconnaissance,” Lorren sighs, “likely going to rally and hit a corpus patrol first.” He flexes his claws, “but, Rys was able to catch some more recent shots from the weave – there’s a leak somewhere in the Tenno system, and got some good recent highlights from the area.” He smirks.

“Do you,” the grinner glances over, “don’t figure it was your charm.” A tease.

A flat frown, Lorren looks over to the hologram. He gestures for Rys to send the corresponding information. “It was hit by a tenno operative two days ago, and its sparking chatter in the weave of its significance. Seems to have some old tech there, and there’s been the buzz of sentients in and out.”

Silence; a sigh, the general stands to their full height, double jointed legs sighing under their bulk. “A challenge, but if we let them ruin themselves, we can take the spoils for ourselves.” Their eyestalk features glance towards the overhead overlays – signal codes of the various clusters of the battalion. “Their crew is elder, crippled and drained; Tenno will make short work of them.” Implants sigh as tubes tap against the hard-blue shell that restrains their organs – a grineer long ruined by cancerous genes, yet still of use.

“You’re hoping whatever is down there, it’ll renew an organ or two, Vyrn?” Lorren watches the grineer work in silence – tasking through commlink as the lights along their head-unit sparkles. A dozen conversations taken at once suddenly draws dark – commands given.

“Yes,” general Vyrn turns away, looking through the falsed view of Saturn’s glow. “You know how long it’s been, Lorren. Muscle-coolant is expensive…” their joints sigh, even movement they make is calculated as the thick leg prosthetics heave against the ground. Settled into place. “Us older ones are being replaced – as much as I would like their elixir for myself, I want to find a replacement to take my place.”

“Hm, yeah,” Lorren sighs, “any idea about were your parts will go once you ‘retire’?” He ponders, forcing himself from the hologram platform to meet the general’s side. “Doubt I’d mesh well with whomever is set to replace you, or whomever gets the cosmetics.”

General Vyrn chuckles – its rattled by electronic overloads, shaken by the internal systems that nestle around the mechanical vocal cords that lie between the head-unit and what is left of their torso – a spine kept alive by grineer tech. “Rather have it combusted than to have you wondering, warframe.”

“Right,” Lorren breathes, “well, don’t think I would work with the battalion, since your crewmembers keep giving me that look. They know about us.” Beyond contracted for intelligence; the volt’s other side job, an entertainer of the explicit degree.

“Of course they do,” heaves, “you don’t have to keep pleasantries –”

“Oh, I haven’t,” the volt chuckles, “they keep well clear of me, I get the looks, but its with fear. They won’t touch me, too dangerous to, given I can blow out whatever transplants they have.”

“We’ve recently gotten some new tube-born; stronger, aggressive, as long as you’re our outside contact, they shouldn’t touch you.”

Theirs a pause, Lorren’s features turn down into a twisting snarl.

\- his claws twisting against shackles -

The volt shakes his head, rubbing against the old bruises lining his wrists. Pulled scars. “I’ll see to that,” he heaves, “if they give me any smart looks, they’ll get a warning jolt.”

The departure is bittersweet as he leaves the general’s quarters – the old grineer is isolated by the limitations of his own body, commanding from distance safety, nestled far from the leading bridge of the battalion’s main carrier. Guards gesture the volt past as he makes his way through the various guard posts, given only the most casual of glances from those well battle-worn – a secondary look given by those untouched by visible degradation. Lorren’s recognition is two-factored; true rumors and a firm fear as the warframe walks briskly f rom room to room. Heading directly towards the hanger to return to his ship, to return to his cephalon so ready to whisk him away from the hazard of being surrounded by battle-ready grineer.

Out for his blood, anything so much looking something other than an allied grineer. Lorren easily catches the itch of trigger fingers as he walks past. And he doesn’t flinch when one almost begins to pass him on his way to the hanger – he’s walked past so many without a second of hesitation.

But they pause and intrude on his path.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” Their face is blistered with untreated cancerous tissue, an eye replaced. Their outfit is slim – not suited for combat, more suited for someone aboard the command deck. Not one who he’d see walking around.

A navigator, perhaps?

Lorren’s features turn firm, confused as crystalline orange sight tries to search for recognition. Who…?

He tries to dismiss it; he’s meets too many grineer to remember them all. “Excuse me,” the volt’s hooves try to step around.

But the navigator impedes his path.

“Aren’t you the one that tore another’s throat out?” They ask – so meekly as they stand in his path.

Crowded back; Lorren freezes, eyes drawn to narrow with further confusion. “You must have the wrong warframe.” And tries to walk around again.

Their arm is extended in his path. “Yeah! I should’ve known from the rumors, if they’re true.” A daunting smile – it draws a shiver down the volt’s spine. “You tore out that warframe’s throat back on earth… don’t you remember? A rhino…”

\- feral claws dig and wedge between the fractured shard glint of an iron skin. And pain blooms through his stomach as weak claws dig up into his organs – pulling towards his spine as the screaming bellow grows until it becomes silenced within his own mouth. Blood… gore oozes over his throat as he pulls back, mouth full, the hand goes lax inside his guts – dropping with the corpse.

Lorren remembers… the bloodsport arena. Earth.

Bad memories fester; his features firm into a daggering stare. Feral memories, half-formed cognition taken by instinct to kill. To maul. “What do you want,” he eventually growls. His spine continues to tingle with the memory of what had happened… rewarded for killing warframe brethren for grineer amusement. Driven by starvation.

“I have no interest in that anymore,” his words are firm even as his tail flickers – nervous. His throughs rattle through buried trauma, on edge.

The navigator seems to step back, almost aware of the electrifying aura that ebbs from the volt’s skin. “Oh, I figured.”

It sparks Lorren’s anxiety – almost as thought it hints to knowing of his escape. Stealing a ship while his cognitive functions was only half-aware, mind still run feral as his inner voice sat sullen and numb trying to make sense. Grip on control sticks dropped as the auto-pilot takes hold as he huddles back against the seat of the small ship. Recoiling, dodging through the interlay points until he made it somewhere far and safe.

Ran away… he ran away from all he once knew.

He was so much better off.

It only freezes Lorren so much more. “What do you want.” Words firm, façade in place.

“The rumors, they true?” A frank question – how long have they been on the carrier? Everyone knows.

“Me and general Vyrn? Yes, now if you excuse me,” Lorren tries to walk past.

Another intrusion; an irritated jolt of electricity furls down Lorren’s spine. ‘Lorren?’ Rys, his cephalon.

“Would you happen to be open for,” they make a quick survey of the area as they speak – they’re alone, midway between guard posts, “a bit of that again? For old times sake.” They smile; a grotesque smile lined with few replacements of teeth. Not vulgar in looks, but the implication –

His hands gripping shackles as he rests into the hands on his hips – an adrenaline rush swarming his cognitive circuits. Aware of the more than comfortable amount of attention – feral nature indugled and taken advantage of; Lorren’s lip twitches with a mild snarl. Forlorn comfort recontextualized; taken advantage of… assaulted. “I’m not interested,” his teeth grit; he can feel his electricity humming through his nerves and throat, humming his voice. “Not in that way anymore.”

The grineer’s smile fades, a step taken back. “What’s wrong? You’re an escort now, aren’t you…? Isn’t that different from before, isn’t it?” There is a shuffle forward that is met by the warframe stepping back, yet still holding his ground. “It wasn’t that bad, come on,” they make another glance around the hallways, and so does Lorren.

Only two other grineer in range of his jolt, if he chooses to unload it all in focus.

“I rather not,” Lorren snarls, trying once again to walk around the grineer, smacking a hand away as it tries to impede on his escape route – towards where the pair are talking among themselves.

“Come on –” a hand lands on Lorren’s shoulder.

Just as quickly the volt turns heel, hands gripping tight into throat. “I said no,” he hisses. His final warning. A pause, and he pulls back with a firm stare.

“The fuck is wrong with you,” they almost seem to take the hint, “feisty aren’t ya, just like –”

Lorren’s claws twist against throat, glaring into the red ring sight. And exerts his strength, kicking a knee out as he never breaks eye contact as his electricity builds up through his skin. “I told you, no.” And unloads.

Hands grip against skin as the grineer begins to smell like burning – seizing their internal circuitry to spark, spasming their limbs to thrash as the warframe stands still, watching as the grineer begins to convulse. A concentrated shock delivered by hand on throat – a hooved foot stomps on the thrash of a leg as it tries to knock him off his feet as their voice box cuts out – hollow screaming left behind as the electricity continues to surge. Burning, festering burning filling the air as smoke rises from their body, small fires burning as he finally draws back.

An aftershock of electricity still surges from his skin as he rises to his full height, glaring down at the navigator – spitting on the corpse.

Taking a looking turn, the two passing grineer are staring at him – one of them clutching their chest.

Likely a heart-beat skip.

Lorren kicks the corpse along to the side of the hallway as he begins to depart, giving the pair a passing look.

They’re afraid… good.

He only finally calms down once he’s safely aboard his own ship, whisked away by his cephalon before a proper response can be drafted about the navigator he torched inside out. Back against the pilot seat he sighs, hands pulling over his face and the slide of smooth electric twitches that still carry through his spine. Stupid to unleash all his energy on one person… he mulls over, a hand dropping with a sigh.

“How well has the wipe gone, Rys,” he breathes, kicking his hocks up onto the console.

“Traces are still found on the scanners, still need to find those last few access nodes on the weave to purge whatever’s left over.”

A sigh is made, and Lorren glances over towards the incoming message console. Waiting for some sort of reprimand, its inevitable, already drafting his response to smoldering a reminder of his past. “Rys,” the volt looks up to the ceiling, head resting back on the cushion as he allows the chair to drop into a recline. “Do I really, honestly, come off as someone that would…” he mulls over his wording; if they knew him… it meant they were there, active in his assault. “Nevermind…” he sighs, too painful to talk about, that he allowed such harm to come to him.

His features fuss into a firm line, angry at himself… turning it towards others. It’s not his fault, and he’s well within his right to burn those in his sight that did that to him.

“Message from Vyrn,” Rys pipes up, half attentive as they continue their direct flight to their next job.

A sullen groan, Lorren adjusts himself to sit. “Can’t wait to see what he says.”

Just as easily the cephalon tasks the commlink to receive the general’s frequency.

“Lorren,” a groaning sigh, irritated, “why, did you kill one of my men.”

Lorren is just as sharp, “where did they transfer from.”

“Don’t start with me –”

“No, don’t you start with me, Vyrn. Remember what I told you about the bloodsport? What happened to me there?” Lorren can feel himself shaking, quivering in the daunting draw of an outburst. “They were one of them, and I just dispatched them because they wouldn’t stop pursuing me.”

Silence… a sigh. “I can’t cover you every time, Lorren.”

“I know, Vyrn,” the volt pauses, trying to hold down his anger… his rage at the pain so well covered up for others amusement. Eagerness of contact taken advantage of; his teeth grit. “But I really don’t give a shit.” And angrily closes the connection with a heaving sigh, palms crawling over his cranium. “Fucking, tired of this shit,” he growls, “my boundaries are set for a fucking reason,” sighs, head dropping back.

His features flinch, and memories of trauma resurge even as he tries to direct his thoughts elsewhere – lingering on the edge of another anxiety attack before he pulls himself through and forces Rys to stop, to take a mercenary call. Extermination. He needs to take his mind off it.


End file.
